Hay Bales

Bales of hay Laying lonesome In a field we all saw Racing through the train window Honestly, Have you ever seen anything So terribly lonesome As a bale of hay Beneath July sun Wanting so bad to soak up something Besides itself

The worst of it was There was more than one of these Bales, more than one field Too fired to bunch into a mountain Or even a hill The absolute weariness Of it all All racing at a sickening pace Through our windows

You nudge me and whisper (As not to disturb sleepers) Do we have fields like that At home? With hay like that? Like that- you don’t say lonely Because hay bales can’t be lonely To say it aloud Would put weight to the foolishness The unavoidable presence of personality In a bale of hay This weight would press onto our skin Straight through the window I respond (a bit too loud for the sleepers taste) No, no we don’t I lied because no one wants To bring loneliness back home To say it aloud, would put weight To the hay bales Making their memory a coat We do not shed

You see, the train is Uncomfortably warm Our hearts, spirits, bones All rising heat of memories Graciously lighter Than bales of hay

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